


this is not a true love song (the typesetter's remix)

by littledust



Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-29
Updated: 2015-06-29
Packaged: 2018-04-06 21:02:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 269
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4236501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/littledust/pseuds/littledust
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik's letters grow more sentimental in his old age.</p>
            </blockquote>





	this is not a true love song (the typesetter's remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pearl_o](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/gifts).
  * Inspired by [this is not a true love song](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3748555) by [pearl_o](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o). 
  * In response to a prompt by [pearl_o](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o) in the [remixmadness2015](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/remixmadness2015) collection. 



> Happy remix madness, pearl_o! The original story is so lovely; I hope I did it justice.

Erik finds easier ways of carrying a typewriter after the machine becomes obsolete. With a few gestures, he can condense his typewriter into a ball that fits in his pocket; with another, he can reconstruct it. The metal remembers its proper shape. Proper paper and ink can be difficult to come by, but Erik manages.

"You're both fossils," Mystique always says, disgusted, when she hears the keys clicking again. Erik's not sure whether she means him and the typewriter and or him and Charles. Either would be accurate, he supposes.

_Dear Charles,_ Erik begins the letter, as he always does. _The weather here is foul. I won't tell you where, only that it is raining. Still, it puts me in mind of our last meeting in Los Angeles, both of us annoyed to miss the promised sunshine while the locals cheered at the relief from drought. Tonight, I am parched, not for water but for your company..._

Erik pauses. The sentiment is ridiculous, but Charles will appreciate it. The typewriter keeps him honest--he'll have to restart the entire letter to strike out a single line. He writes on for pages, mostly absurdities about articles he's read and the occasional memory of Charles, and closes with _I love you,_ as he does in all but his most furious letters. The furious letters are rarer as of late, careless sentiment bobbing between every other line like an otter on the waves. Erik must be missing California, to think of that. His bones ache with the cold.

_P.S. I'll see you soon. Somewhere warm,_ he promises, and ends the letter.


End file.
